


Latine Glacies Crepito

by chasing_the_sterek



Series: Once Upon A Timeline [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Canon Compliant, Deals, Human Bill Cipher, Ice Cream, Latin, M/M, everything that went down went down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6969100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_the_sterek/pseuds/chasing_the_sterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill shows up, grinning around a mouthful of ice cream in a shiny new human body he's spent years building up magic for, and turns the twin's world upside down. It doesn't help that he's a complete dork.</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>One Hundred Ways To Say "I Love You"</i>
  <br/>
  <i><b>3.</b> No, no, it's my treat.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latine Glacies Crepito

**Author's Note:**

> Translations for the Latin in this fic is at the end, in the notes, so don't go google-translating it back into English only to finish the fic and realise translations were at the end the whole time.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic _feels_ super long, but I'm not actually sure what the wordcount is yet bc I haven't posted it and it won't tell me on the edit screen. Also, bear in mind that this was majorly written during the hours of midnight and three in the morning.

Dipper and Mabel find him by complete accident in an ice cream parlour.

It's not a shock to see him, even if he _is_ a dream demon who tried to take over the world just a little over seven years ago - Bill's statue had gone missing five years and nine months after he'd been defeated (warranting a frantic phone call from Soos, who didn't want to face waking an irritable Stan and grumpy Ford after they'd arrived at the Shack at two in the morning the day before from another autumn boat trip) and nobody had been able to find him. A month into the renewed search that summer break, Dipper had a dream from Bill telling him _to stop looking, damnit, I only stayed in that godforsaken statue that long because I was building up power to make my own body and now I'm spending a little time getting used to it and you're irritating me by trying to summon me or whatever all the time._ Dipper had called the search off the next day, but everyone had been on the lookout for a human Bill ever since.

And now, after all those months of jumping at people who accidentally snuck up on them and staring awkwardly at people with bowties or top hats, he just. . . shows up. Sitting in an ice cream parlor.

Mabel and Dipper share a look.

"Wanna go over?" She asks.

"I don't know," Dipper sighs. "It can't be a coincidence he's here now. We always walk past here around this time, and we've been looking for him for ages."

"Fair enough, I guess," Mabel hums, rising onto the balls of her feet so she can see Bill over a sudden rush of people. "But c'mon, even if he's there on purpose, he's still _there._ You're gonna kick yourself later if you don't at least _try_ to get him to tell you what he's up to."

"It might not be him," Dipper says, eyeing the blonde.

It certainly _looks_ like how Bill would most likely look as a human.

He has golden-blonde hair with dark brown, almost black, roots. His fringe is handing over his left eye, obscuring it from view. His skin is tanned, a little grin on his face as he stabs his brightly-coloured plastic spoon into his ice cream with slender fingers, and he's got a suit on with a little black bowtie that's startlingly similar to the one he had when he was a triangle. The eye Dipper can see is downcast, watching the ice cream in his tub move as he pokes it.

But they can't just go up and start yelling at someone random (again - Dipper and Mabel have already made that mistake once), so Dipper opens his mouth to say that they should move on.

Possibly-Bill looks up, grin flaring into something bigger, something that could probably be described as predatory, and Dipper notices suddenly that the white of his eye is glowing a soft yellow. Mabel gasps softly at his side, obviously having spotted the same thing.

"That's him," the twins say in unison. They share another look, this one loaded with a plan from one and an agreement from the other, and start forging their way through to foot traffic to get to the ice cream parlor.

"Hello there," Bill smirks when they arrive, glaring, at his table.

"What are you doing here?" Dipper hisses.

"Where have you been?" Mabel demands at the exact same time.

Bill raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Still twin-like as ever, I see," he notes. "And hello to you, too."

Neither of them say anything, just glare a little harder and sit down to show that they don't intend to go anywhere any time soon.

Bill sighs, rolling his eyes. "Take a seat, why don't you," he grumbles, and shoves a scoop of ice cream into his mouth moodily. The act and the emotion clash so ridiculously Dipper has to force down a laugh.

"We did," Dipper says, hoping he doesn't give away how funny he thinks the situation is in his voice. "Now answer the questions."

Bill rolls his eyes again and heaves an overdramatic, world-weary sigh. Dipper already knows the answer's going to be full of shit before Bill even opens his mouth to begin - he's only been human for a year and three months, as far as Dipper is aware. There's no way he can be _world-weary_ after that short a time.

"I forgot what the questions were," Bill claims. "Care to say them again?"

"What are you doing here and where the hell were you before this," Mabel reminds him. Even though her eyes are narrowed, Dipper can see that she's finding Bill's overdramaticism just as hilarious as he is.

Damn, they're going to crack in a minute.

"I'm here because reasons," Bill says helpfully, scooping some more ice cream into his mouth with unnecessary flourish. "And as for where I was. . ."

He chews his spoon a little, staring into the middle distance as he contemplates.

"That's none of your business," the blonde decides after a second.

(Dipper would say that Bill had an excellent poker face as he watched the twin's faces, but that would be a lie. Bill's poker face is shit.)

"Great," Dipper sighs, leaning back in his chair and running a hand down his face. "Vague answers. My favourite."

"There's more where that came from, Pine Tree," Bill hums amusedly.

Dipper refuses to look at him. "No thanks."

There's silence for a while. Bill eats his ice cream and watches the two of them. Mabel eyes his food, obviously trying to remember when she last ate ice cream. Dipper eyes Bill - an all-powerful dream demon who's been missing for a year and a quarter as he gets used to his human body - and tries to remember when his life was normal.

"Anyway," Bill says suddenly, breaking the silence and making Mabel jump. "Heard you two crazy kids are in university now. How're things going with that, huh? What subjects you taking?"

"That's none of your business," Dipper smirks, his tone a near-identical copy of the demon's from a second ago.

"Ugh," Bill complains, pulling a face and hunching a little over his ice cream. "Damn karma. Shooting Star, are you gonna tell me what you're doing at that big fancy school of yours?"

"Fancy coming from the man wearing a three-piece suit plus bowtie?" Mabel shoots back, grinning victoriously at Bill's shocked expression.

"Since when did you two get sassy to me?" He mutters, almost to himself as he stares at the table.

It strikes Dipper, then, that maybe Bill's not actually here for anything sinister, because maybe he's just lonely. He's spent seven years without speaking to anyone familiar, anyone he knows; sure, dreams have continued like normal, so Dipper assumes there's been some interaction, but he's willing to take a bet that barely two - if any - of those were friendly. Plus, Dipper's taking Psychology and Bill's displaying a couple of tells that scream about how anxious and awkward he's feeling.

The brunet sighs heavily, ignoring the little reading glance he gets from Mabel's direction, and leans forward to put himself into Bill's space a little more to grab his attention. "I'm taking Psychology, Creative Fiction, History, and Latin/Greek."

"Huh?" Bill says intelligently, blinking at Dipper uncomprehendingly for a second before he remembers his question and his eyes clear. "Oh, right. Smart kiddo, huh? I got any tells?"

Dipper leans back in his chair again, crosses his arms, and smirks. "Oh, tons. Kudos to you, though, you've managed avoid any majorly common ones. Probably don't want people knowing if you're lying or covering up feelings or whatever."

Bill makes an irritated noise.

"I'm right, then," Dipper grins, raising an eyebrow in challenge when Bill raises his head to glare at him.

"Damn straight you are!" Mabel whoops, and the two high-five without needing to look.

Bills huffs grouchily and tilts his chair back so he's looking at the ceiling (Dipper avoids looking at his neck, exposed and stretched out and bared to the world -).

"What happened to the good old days?" He demands, yellowy-gold glowing eyes tracking the movement of the lights above their table.

Dipper snorts. "When we were scared shitless of you, you mean?"

Bills eyes widen a little in surprise at the swear, his gaze flashing down to meet Dipper's, but he doesn't mention it. "Yeah. Good old days, right Shooting Star? Back when I was a triangle."

"Back when you were an all-powerful dream demon," Mabel mutters, frowning at the wood of the table as she thinks.

"Still _am_ an all-powerful dream demon, dear," Bill drawls lazily, eyes returning to the ceiling. "Only thing that changed is I got this meatsack."

"And you found your chill," Mabel notes helpfully, not looking very perturbed that Bill is still very powerful.

Bill frowns. "My what?"

"Anyway," Mabel continues, ploughing on and ignoring the blonde's confusion at the phrase, "I'm taking Art, Creative Fiction, Textiles, and Veterinary Science."

"Oooooh, creative," Bill wiggles his eyebrow excitedly at Mabel. "Whaddaya use in Art? Paint? Oil pastels? Blood of the innocent? Use pencils like a _dweeb?"_

"Pencils are one of the most flexible mediums to use for a piece of artwork," Mabel lectures, scowling at Bill. "Don't diss the pencils."

"Dweebs use them," Bill reiterates, blatantly dissing the pencils, and Dipper can't help but feel a begrudging respect for standing by his words, even if he's being an idiot and he's going to take them back in three seconds.  
_  
"I_ use them, you ass." His sister points out poisonously, eyes narrowing again.

"And so you should," Bill agrees with a small degree of regretful desperation, nodding furiously and sensibly avoiding eye contact with Angry Mabel. "Pencils are one of the most flexible mediums to use for a piece of artwork. Very classy."

"Not as classy as the blood of the innocent, though," Dipper says, neatly snagging Bill's ice cream and a green plastic spoon from the little (overflowing) pot on the table in one smooth movement.

The ice cream is coffee flavour, not chocolate like Dipper had thought, and slightly melted from where Bill's been too busy talking to eat it. He eats it anyway - he's a student, dammit, he takes free food like he's a man dying of thirst and the food is the water that's going to save his life.

"Hey!" Bill growls, and suddenly the tub's glowing a soft blue and floating back over to rest in front of the glaring blonde. "That's _mine,_ asshole. Get your own." 

"Fine, I will," Dipper grins, raising a hand to call over a waiter or something (because only Bill would choose an _ice cream parlour_ with _waiters),_ and not five minutes later both he and Mabel have ice cream tubs in front of them.

"What have you been up to, though, seriously?" Mabel asks. "World domination? Death to millions? Plotting to overthrow Donald Trump if he ever becomes President?"

"Please tell me you'll do that," Dipper pleads, eyes wide. "He's a danger to society."

"Why can't we keep Obama?" Bill asks, blinking in confusion. "Obama's a great President. The best. Bestest."

"He's served his damn terms, that's why," Dipper grumbles, scoffing into his ice cream tub. "Best President we've ever had, y'know? We should bend the rules a little. Let him have another term. Gives us more time to kill Trump and make it look like an accident."

Bill eyes him. "You seem very set on killing this Trump guy for someone who was very anti-death seven years ago."

"He deserves it," Mabel hisses, eyes flaring. "I can't believe people are _voting_ for him."

"Uh-huh," Bill says dubiously, and shovels more ice cream into his mouth. "Horrific. Anyway, I've been getting used to this body. Never used a humanoid body before - not for long periods of time, at least - so everything's new."

"Huh." Dipper squints at him. "So the best thing is to throw yourself straight in the deep end minus any flotation devices or any knowledge of how to swim?"

"Basically," Bill says.

"You're an idiot." Dipper says plainly.

"Says the guy who tried to punch a cosmic being in the eyeball," Bill shoots back, looking amused, and Dipper sighs.

"Would've hit you, too, if it weren't for damn magic."

Bill quirks an eyebrow. "Pine Tree. Dip-Dop. Paper Jam. If it weren't for magic, there wouldn't be a me to punch."

"Paper Jam?" Mabel asks curiously, staring at Dipper.

Dipper's too busy whining to notice. "That was _once,_ and Paper Jam Dipper _melted -"_

"Tell us about being human before he has one of those moments where he complains about the entire world," Mabel advises.

_"Hey -"_

"Sure thing, Shooting Star. What d'you wanna hear?"

"Where did you go?" Mabel asks, putting her elbows on the table and resting her head in her hands. Dipper can feel her feet knocking his chair under the table as she swings her legs.

"Everywhere. Nowhere. I was a tourist a lot - well, I prefer the term _backpacker_ or something, far better connotations - but I lived in New York for a while. I wanted to get a look at both sides of the glass."

"Did you?"

Bill nods. "Oh, yeah. Lots of looks. Lots of angles you're not meant to see."

"Very cryptic," Dipper notes dryly.

Bill shoots him a grin. "Thank you. Anyway, I just explored life. I got a job for a little while. I paid rent and commuted and learnt that you should ask if it's the dog version of Satan instead of just assuming it isn't and petting it."

He shivers dramatically. Mabel giggles. Dipper snorts.

"Sounds traumatising," he hums.

"Oh, it was, Pine Tree, you have no idea. Good thing I have this crazy awesome healing factor going for me, huh? Otherwise life would have chewed me up and spit me out by now."

"Have you had a lot of accidents, then?" Mabel asks.

"Tons." Bill answers simply, and stuffs a heaped spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

Dipper has to remind himself that he's looking at a powerful demon who tried to take over the universe seven years ago when Bill shudders again, eyes wide, and makes a loud complaint about brain freeze.

"But you have a healing factor," Dipper frowns.

"Oh, yeah. I just walked away from them. You meatsack's reactions to someone doing that are hilarious."

"Humans, not meatsacks," Dipper corrects. "People are gonna get creeped out if you call it that."

"Killjoy," Bill mutters. "That was one of the fun parts."

"You're arguing like an old married couple," Mabel snickers. "OTP alert."

Dipper shoots her a warning look. "Mabel, seriously, _no -"_

Bill shoots her a confused glance. "Wait, what does that mean? Oh-teepee?"

"Guess," Mabel challenges helpfully, eyes glinting mischievously over her spoonful of ice cream.

Bill sticks his tongue out at her. "Fine, don't help me. Obama's the President?"

"Nope."

"One Tarred Person?"

"Definitely not."

"Oh, the pain?"

"Ooh, I like that one," Mabel says, looking thoughtful.

Dipper rolls his eyes. "That's a no."

"Of This Place?" Bill tries. He's starting to sound desperate.

"Absolument pas -"

Dipper decides to take action. "You know what, we could be here all day, let's just -"

"Dipper, no -"

"- stop while we're -"

"- c'mon, don't be such a -"

"- ahead, besides, do you really want -"

"- killjoy, it'll be _fun -"_

"Did you ever do this that summer seven years ago?" Bill muses aloud.

He's ignored.

"- a dream demon knowing what -"

"- and even if that's an unfamiliar feeling to you -"

"- an OTP is, seriously think this through -"

"- it's still a feeling -"

"- for once, use your head Mabes -"

"- use your heart, Dip-Dop -"  
_  
"- this is not sensible -"_

 _"- who cares if it's sensible -"_  
  
"I don't think you did this that summer seven years ago," Bill decides.  
_  
"SHUT UP, CIPHER!"_ The twins yell in unison, and then glare at each other.

"Stop doing that twin thing, Bill doesn't care -"

"Excuse you, I am not doing _the twin thing,_ you're the one constantly trying to do it -"  
_  
"Since when!?_ You're always showing it off -"

"Not nearly as much as you -"

"As amusing as this is," Bill interjects. "I think you want to finish your tubs while they're still cold. And people are staring."

Mabel and Dipper huff, cross their arms, and look away from each other.

"So," Bill grins wolfishly. "Am I ever going to learn what OTP means?"

"No," Dipper snaps.

"Eventually," Mabel grumbles at the same time.

Bill's eyes flare a brighter gold in amusement. "Nice unison, kids."  
_  
"Conclusi, culus,"_ Dipper groans, closing his eyes and tipping his head back so he's facing the ceiling.

One of Bill's eyebrows quirks up with interest. _"Bonum electum lingua, hædum,"_ he drawls, ignoring the content of what Dipper said entirely and focusing on the Latin.

 _"Tu tam impatienter iuro deo,"_ Dipper replies, groaning louder.

 _"Deus non esse,_ Pine Tree," Bill sing-songs cheerfully.

"Evidently not, or you wouldn't be here, testing my patience, would you?" Dipper answers, eyes still closed and face still turned to the ceiling.

"What's not what?" Mabel demands, and when Dipper cracks open one eye to peer at her face her eyes are flicking back and forth between him and Bill.

"God isn't real," Bill translates.

"How the hell did you get onto the subject of God after _four sentences?"_ Mabel's incredulous expression holds for a minute until it's just resigned. "You know what, never mind. Latin is a dead language for a reason."

"Excuse you," Dipper mumbles, pressing the palms of his hands into his eye sockets to fend off an impending headache. "Latin is a glorious language."

Bill nods enthusiastically.

Mabel sighs. "It's hard to see you as an all-powerful dream demon when you act like a complete dork," she says, and Dipper finds himself nodding in agreement.

"Well," Bill says, grinning at them (and is that a little bit of fondness Dipper sees there?) as he stands and stretches a little. "This has been fun. Nice catching up with all of you, but I have to go."

"What?" Mabel demands, standing up and letting her mouth gape open at the blonde. "You can't go!"

Bill raises an eyebrow delicately. "And why is that?"

Dipper stands, too. "We've been looking for you for over a year, man. You can't just show up and then jet off again."

"Watch me," Bill announces, putting a couple of bills on the table. "See you never, losers."

"Let us pay you back for lunch -"

"No, no, it's my treat." Bill snickers at their expressions and turns to leave.

"Deals," Dipper blurts, just as Bill's about to take the three or four steps that will let him disappear into the crowd outside the parlour.

Bill freezes, then swivels on one heel to stare at Dipper. His face is incredulous, shocked. It looks like his birthday came early and he can't quite believe it's real.

"A _what?"_ The blonde chokes out.

"Deals," Dipper repeats, quieter as he grows more sure of himself and his plan. "You still do those, right?"

"I do," Bill drawls slowly. His dark irises are scanning Dipper's face with a sort of confused frustration, like he's trying to read him and he can't.

"I want to make one," Dipper announces, rolling his shoulders and staring Bill in the eye.

 _"What?"_ Mabel yelps.

 _"Quae est infernum facitis?"_ Bill demands, striding forwards and narrowing his eyes at Dipper.

"Stop speaking Latin!" Mabel complains loudly, scowling between the two. "I _know_ you two know I can't understand it -"

"You can't just show up after seven years, chat for an hour, and disappear again," Dipper argues. "That's not how life works, and I know you've been milling around and picking up practical life experience in areas where you only had theory knowledge, so don't try and tell me it's wrong."

Bill makes a face for a nanosecond, then puts his hands on his hips and locks his eyes with Dipper. "Whaddaya want out of your end of the deal, then?"

"I want you to stick around," Dipper answers levelly. "I want to. . . to. . ."

He glances at Mabel, who's listening with rapt attention. He doesn't want to say it and be teased, so he switches to Latin again.

 _"Ut scire vos,"_ Dipper continues slowly, plastering a challenging look on his face when Bill's eyebrows raise even further.

Mabel groans loudly at the Latin and puts her head in her hands. She peeks through her fingers, though, so she's definitely still watching.

"You've just spent a year and a bit learning how to be a human beyond just doing things by the book, and nearly six years before that storing up power and waltzing around the mindscape. We haven't seen you in seven years, Bill."

"You're speaking to me right now," Bill huffs. "In fact, you're _looking_ at me right now. I'd say that's enough."

"If you leave, I'm summoning you again," Dipper threatens.

"I'll ignore it." Bill shoots back petulantly.

_"Si uti non licet latine. Nolite multum officere circum, Cipher."_

Bill growls, glowering at Dipper like he's hoping he'll spontaneously combust, then sticks his hand out grumpily. "Fine. What's the deal, kid?"

Mabel sucks in a breath. "Dipper Pines, _tell me what you said to him right now -"_

Dipper puts his hand in Bill's, closing his fingers around it as the taller man does the same. Blue fire sparks from where their hands are touching and envelops both of them. It's the warmest Dipper's hand has ever been, but it doesn't hurt in the slightest, not like the Puppet Incident's deal with Bill did all those years ago. Maybe it mattered whether you were in his good books or not. . . ?

Bill's watching him with open amusement as Dipper takes all of this in. He looks like he's about to open his mouth and say something, so Dipper cuts him off.

"I want you to stick around," Dipper tells him simply. "I don't want you disappearing into the general public again so we lose you until you feel like popping up again."

Bill considers him for a moment, then nods as he accepts Dipper's half of the deal. "I still haven't learnt everything, even after a year and three months," the demon says. "I want to use where you two are living as a touch base whenever I need it, and you two as rocks to lean against if I need them for job applications or whatever."

"Deal," Dipper says firmly.

"Deal," Bill agrees just as firmly.

They shake hands, maintaining eye contact as they do, and then let their respective hands fall to their sides. The blue flames of the deal flicker and die between them. The sudden lack of warmth makes Dipper shiver.

Bill grins wolfishly. "I'll see you around, then, huh, Pine Tree?" he says, and leaves the shop with a casual wave over one shoulder.

There's a silence from Mabel and Dipper, during which the latter falls back into his chair (when did he stand up?) and the former stares at him.

"Okay," Mabel starts after a little while. "You're going to have to tell me _exactly_ what all of that Latin meant."

**Author's Note:**

>  _Conclusi, culus_  
>  Shut up, asshole
> 
>  _Bonum electum lingua, hædum_  
>  Good choice of language, kid
> 
>  _Tu tam impatienter iuro deo_   
>  You're so irritating I swear to God
> 
>  _Deum non esse_  
>  God doesn't exist
> 
>  _Quae est infernum facitis_  
>  What the hell are you doing
> 
>  _Ut scire vos_  
>  To get to know you again
> 
>  _Si uti non licet latine. Nolite multum officere circum, Cipher_  
>  Not if I use Latin. Stop messing around, Cipher


End file.
